


Moon River

by Felgia_Starr



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Confessions, F/M, Hotels, Late Night Conversations, Making Out, POV Zuko (Avatar), Prompt Fic, Second Chances, Swimming Pools, Zutara Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25529731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felgia_Starr/pseuds/Felgia_Starr
Summary: Often, when Zuko thinks of regret, the first thing that comes to mind is the estranged girl from the gentle past he thought he should’ve forgotten by now.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Moon River

Often, when Zuko thinks of regret, the first thing that comes to mind is the estranged girl from the gentle past he thinks he should’ve forgotten by now. During sleepless nights when the pale moonbeams shine down on him like intangible rays of silver, she is all that he can think about—her brown skin and how it felt beneath his touch, her blue eyes and how intensely she looked at him, her long dark hair and how his hands felt entangled in her curls, and her lips and how many times he almost kissed them.   
  
He, of course, has plenty of regrets; most of them he accumulated through desperate mistakes and thoughtless impulsions, and most of them now sit in the darkest corner of his mind, arranged alphabetically on tall shelves as though he deliberately collected them throughout his life as some sort of hobby. It may sound stupid to others, but it’s the truth—he truly does keep track of his more impactful mistakes and unforgettable regrets. Why? Well, because it is his own way of punishing himself, and what is a more excruciating torture than lying in bed, late at night, mulling over stuff he either regretted doing or not doing?   
  
Katara, especially, reminds him of moonlight, of the sea-salt breeze near the ocean waters, and of sleepless winter nights, having discussions about nothing at all—so it isn’t a strange thing for him to be constantly reminded of her now that he finds himself awake in bed, bathed in the moon’s rays during one of Ba Sing Se’s coldest nights. It doesn’t help, of course, that he made a lot of memories with her in this forsaken city.    
  
He shuts his eyes, groaning when his vision fills up with more images of the girl he almost had. To this day, he can still hear the soft whispers of her almost-love for him, her beautiful words that spoke of her hidden affections for him, and the hypnotizing chimes of her laughter. Back then, he wasn’t sure of her feelings, let alone his own. Yet, somehow, he always found himself reassured by the way her blue eyes shone in  _ that  _ way whenever he was near, the way her lips curved up every time he sat next to her, and the way she seemed to love simply listening to him ramble about his problems.   
  
Agni, how many years has it been since he last saw her? Unlike her brother and their shared friends, he and Katara do not run into the same spaces anymore or rather, they both don’t feel comfortable being in the same proximity as the other. Up until now—or, he guesses, tomorrow—they both have been successful in ignoring each other’s existence. It’s honestly impressive that they haven’t talked, seen, and even looked at each other in so long, but Zuko supposes all records have to be broken at some point. And he supposes that this particular record he shares with her is going to be broken the moment their eyes meet again tomorrow, at the reunion party Sokka put together.   
  
If he remembers correctly, the last time her eyes smiled at him was seven years ago—when they were both sixteen and young and _ so fucking dumb. _ He was such a dumb-ass at that age, not that he’s gotten any better, but there were so many opportunities and once-in-a-lifetime chances that he let slip past his fingers when he was younger—and Katara is one of them.   
  
Turning to his left and clutching a pillow tightly to his chest, he wonders about her whereabouts. Is she doing well? Is she having a safe flight? Or has she already boarded? Is she in the hotel now as well, eyes wide open as she also finds herself thinking of the past?    
  
When he entered the hotel six hours ago, Sokka told him that he was the first to arrive. Shortly after that, Toph and Aang barged into his hotel room—while he was in the bathroom, for Agni’s sake—before the two demons proceeded to make havoc out of everything. They had dinner, and thankfully, Aang asked about Katara’s absence before Zuko was forced to, and they quickly learned from Sokka that his little sister would be a little late because of a few commitments   
  
Since then, Zuko hasn’t been able to get her out of his head. His mind can’t help but drift away to thoughts of her. He isn’t entirely new to being plagued by endless thoughts about Katara, of course—every once in a while, especially during his lonelier nights with nothing but the full moon as company, his brain would often conjure up images of his past lovers; and even though he and Katara only ever uncertainly played along the thin line between friendship and romance, his heart seems to believe that losing her before they can even fully figure out their feelings for each other is the greatest heartbreak of his life.   
  
On his worse nights—which sometimes feels like  _ every  _ night—it pains his heart to think of her. It isn’t much of a pain as it is a peculiar void inside him. Thinking of Katara is like scratching an old wound, like coming across an old cassette tape, or like opening up a sinkhole in his heart that lets him know of the emptiness he’s felt ever since the last time he walked away from her.   
  
Before, he looked back on memories that include her with bitter longing and a soft kind of fondness, but tonight, everything seems to hurt. Everything feels different now that his entire body is preparing to see her again tomorrow for the first time in seven years.   
  
Oh spirits, if he feels this miserable now when he’s alone in his fucking hotel room, how the hell will he act once he’s actually near her, once he’s physically in front of her, greeting her and speaking to her in the stupid reunion he’s supposed to attend tomorrow?   
  
“Fuck this,” he mutters as he sits up, rubbing a frustrated a hand over his face. He cannot sleep like this. If he forces himself to stay on the bed, he knows he’ll just end up wide awake the whole night, slowly descending into the perpetual depths of his self-loathing—and he knows that isn’t the correct way to spend a three-day getaway with his friends. It’s a happy occasion; why the hell is he torturing himself with the despondent memories of his past mistakes?    
  
Swinging his legs over the bed, Zuko reaches out to turn the bedside lamp on and, with the help of the dim lighting, finds his discarded black turtle-neck sweater on the foot of the bed. Vaguely, he recalls sliding the article of clothing out of his body shortly after he settled in bed, unable to bear the heat at the time. Now that he’s planning to leave his hotel room, it’s only socially-proper of him to don the black sweater again before actually taking a stroll.   
  
After rising to his feet and stretching his neck side-to-side, Zuko pockets his key card and promptly walks out of his hotel room, craving a warm cup of black tea or, at the very least, a tall glass of the more inferior drink, iced coffee, in his system.

* * *

  
Zuko expected a few things in the pool before he ultimately made a decision to go there. He expected a couple meeting for a late night rendezvous, a bunch of teenagers sneaking under their parents’ noses, or even a whole family who only made a reservation up until tomorrow morning and is now milking every second of their precious time on the pool. He recognized that all three might be a possibility, but his expectations didn’t deter him from walking up to the pool anyway.    
  
Why? Well, it’s all relatively simple, to be honest; he’s just a man who suffers from frequent insomnia, and he’s decided that he’s going to be spending this particular sleepless night sitting on a lounge chair, beneath the full moon that very much reminds him of his troubles, while he occasionally takes small sips from the plastic cup of the boba tea in his hand. He even picked up a comic book that contains short scary stories from the nearby convenience store. Needless to say, he’s set for a long night in the pool, and he didn’t expect anything—or anyone—that holds the capacity to alter his plans.   
  
But as he stands not even five steps away from the entrance to the pool area—mouth gaping and limbs freezing as his shocked eyes lock with the all-too-familiar azure ones that belong to the only person besides him in the ‘room’—Zuko realizes that there are a lot of possibilities that didn’t even cross his mind.   
  
Seeing Katara sitting on the edge of the pool, her calves dipped into the water, is one of them. Seemingly having heard destiny calling her name, she turned her head to look at him as soon as she first heard his footsteps walking up to the pool area, and he watched in shock as the phone that was previously held close to her ear dropped into the water below her. But even now, roughly one minute after he arrived, she still doesn’t notice that her phone slipped from her fingers—in fact, she doesn’t seem to notice anything but him.   
  
A voice in his head tells him to run back to his hotel room, but he cannot move, cannot fathom how the girl— _ woman _ —sitting before him is physically real.   
  
Despite that, he does know she’s real. There’s no denying the way her long brown tresses fly with the direction of the wind, the way her sapphire eyes reflect the bright rays of the moon above them, and the way her lips further open up in shock the longer they stare at each other. He recognizes her authenticity from the small movements she makes and from the subconscious interactions her body has with nature.    
  
She’s real, she’s Katara, and she’s  _ here.  _ She’s not just a figment of his imagination, not just a part of his bitter recollections and broken past. Out of all the places in the world—in the fucking hotel even—destiny just has to screw with them and make them meet in the outdoor pool before they’re ready, before they can practice the lines they’re supposed to say to each other.   
  
“Zuko,” he hears her acknowledge in surprise, her voice naught but an insignificant wisp in the midnight air. His name decorating her lips is like an old vinyl record playing on an even older phonograph, filling the atmosphere with unsweetened nostalgia and should-be forgotten memories.   
  
Apprehension churns in his stomach, and he is forced to swallow down the ball of nerves that gathers in his throat. “Katara.”   
  
She makes a choked gasp kind of sound in her throat, and for some reason, it humbles him, reassures him, and makes him feel better. The sound lets him know that she is as nervous, if not more, as he is at this moment. “Hi.”   
  
“Hello,” he replies. The smile on his lips feels forced, but he knows the unadulterated exhilaration that rushes through his veins is as real as she is.    
  
For some reason, she nods slowly, as though she’s still trying to process his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?”   
  
“Can’t sleep,” he explains, making slow steps towards the lounge chairs before awkwardly perching on it, hyperaware of Katara’s gaze on him the entire time. With a shaking hand, he raises the cup of boba until the straw reaches his lips, carefully sipping on it. The best thing he can do in this situation is pretend he’s not as nervous as he is.    
  
He deftly watches Katara shoot up to her feet in alarm before she reaches out for her phone in the shallow pool waters. When she faces him again and proceeds to walk in his direction, a downtrodden look clouding her eyes as she frowns at her dead phone, his heartbeat spikes, and he swears he can feel every fast-paced pulse below his ears.   
  
She mutters a string of the kid-friendly version of curse words under her breath as she sits on the lounge chair beside him. He almost laughs when her adorable cussing reaches his ears but doesn’t because she’s sad, and he doesn’t want to be that one asshole that giggles whenever a friend is feeling down. Instead, he strives to help her the best way he can—by offering up an advice that can possibly revive her phone. “Dry your phone off and bury it in a bag of rice.”   
  
She sends him a mild glare, scowling. “What?”   
  
His face heats up, and he forces himself to avert his gaze away from her. “The rice basically absorbs the leftover water inside your phone. You should leave it there for about—”   
  
To his surprise, Katara lets out a small laugh. “You haven’t changed at all, have you?”   
  
“What do you mean?” he asks, frowning. At Katara’s words, Zuko finds himself mildly offended. He believes that he has grown at least a bit compared to his younger self. He, at the very least, thinks of his current self as more mature and less irrational than his sixteen-year-old self. Contrary to her words, he has changed very much over the last seven years. Perhaps she just hasn’t seen him enough to even notice it.    
  
But the blinding smile that spreads across her entire face instantly replaces his slight irritation with utter admiration. For her, of course. After all these years, she’s still capable of stopping his heart with a single up-turn of her lips. “You’re still a goof, is all I’m saying. A big adorable goof.”   
  
“I’m not adorable,” he rebuts immediately. He likes to think more of himself as the beautiful young man his uncle always says he is.   
  
“You are,” she insists. “You definitely still are.”   
  
Not knowing what to say to that, Zuko instead looks for something to apologize for, as always. “I’m sorry about your phone.”   
  
“It’s not your fault.” Her eyes soften, and her smile turns... tender. “I was just surprised to see you.”   
  
“I was, too,” he admits, putting his drink and the nearly-forgotten comic book on the ground, so he can fidget with nothing but his hands. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Sokka told me earlier that you were going to be late, and for some reason, I assumed that you were going to arrive late in the night.”   
  
“I did,” she confirms. “I just checked in an hour ago, and I know I’m supposed to sleep the travel exhaustion off, but… I always find myself unable to sleep during nights such as this one. The full moon makes me restless, I guess. I don’t really know. I just… I know it’s sounds kind of strange, but—”   
  
“I understand,” he intervenes. “You were like that when we were younger too, I remember—you rise with the moon, and I rise with the sun.”   
  
The chuckle that slips out of her mouth doesn’t sound as bittersweet as it should be, in his opinion. “Things were certainly different when we were younger, huh?”   
  
So, here it is—the long-awaited discussion about their past. Zuko has to take his boba tea from the ground and sip until his stomach feels full just to prepare himself before he can respond. “Yeah, we were… different. Younger, obviously, and a lot dumber.”   
  
He notes how she hesitates before she speaks again. “I wouldn’t really say that we were dumb.”   
  
“What would you call it then?” What other word is there that perfectly describes their idiotic reluctance to simply lose themselves in each other and their ultimate decision to let go instead of to hold on?   
  
He doesn’t have an answer. Neither does she, apparently, judging by the immediate lengthy silence that follows his question. All that she gives him is her eyes—her eyes that speak volumes of what she truly felt for him back then. That’s the exact moment when Zuko remembers that Katara is capable of telling lies with her mouth but never with her eyes. Her eyes always remain wide-open, glinting, and honest to the core. Right now, her eyes inform him of her love for him—the kind of love they thought would be forgettable, the kind of love that still, to this day, breaks their hearts, and the kind of love that has never been given a chance to blossom.   
  
Zuko smiles; a smile that is as honest as her glittering blue eyes, a smile that he reserves for her, and a smile that only she knows. He hopes that with a single quirk-up of his lips and a single brightening of his eyes, she can see how much he loved her back then as well.   
  
She smiles back. This time, he wholeheartedly believes that her smile right now hurts him more than her tears ever will, but he doesn’t know why. “How have you been these past few years, Zuko?”   
  
“I’m good,” he tells her. “I’m doing way better than I ever did when I was sixteen, at least. How about you?”   
  
Secretly, he hopes that she’s been doing as well as he is. He hopes for her dreams to unfold right before her very eyes and for her happiness to last her a lifetime or two—because even up to this day, all he wants for her is to be truly happy. Above all, that is what he knows she deserves.    
  
“I’m good, too. I…” she trails off, her gaze moving to the direction of the pool. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually realized it before now, but I… I really missed you.”   
  
His throat turns dry. “I missed you, too. You know, my mind drifts to thoughts of you sometimes. I’ve always wondered about your well-being and whereabouts. Well, you know me, and you know that I like to spend an unhealthy amount of time mulling over my mistakes and regrets, but—”   
  
The raw hurt that passes through her eyes seems to weaken his entire soul. “You regret being with me?”   
  
“No! That’s not what I meant! It’s just that you remind me of cold nights and the full moon, so when I find myself awake during one of those nights, I just—” he stops at her perplexed yet still hurt expression, taking a long breath. “I’m not making sense, am I?”   
  
“Not really.”   
  
Zuko sighs, removes the lid from the plastic cup of boba tea, and gulps all the remaining contents down. He might as well come clean now that he’s fucked up. “I do not and will not ever regret a moment I spent with you. When I was younger, you were one of the few silver linings in my life, and I never realized this at the time, but I think I actually loved you then. I mean, I loved spending time with you, and I felt like you were the one of the few that could see through my walls and recognize me for whom I really was and who I wanted to be. I loved you then, and to be honest, the only thing I regret is never giving us a real, fighting chance.”   
  
“Zuko.” She gasps his name like burning smoke from a cigarette stick he knows she’ll never hold. “I—”   
  
He cannot take a rejection from her. Not yet, at least, and certainly not now. “I know it’s stupid to say that to you now, but one thing I learned after seven years is to open up to other people, and I think I haven’t been able to get you out of my head because… well, because there was still an underlying secret I wanted you to know and there’s still this burning question that, no matter what I do or think of, still permeates at the back of my head—like, what would’ve happened if I told you I loved you back then? What would’ve happened if we actually ended up together? What if we’re not just a missed opportunity? Not just something to regret? Not just another almost love story?  _ What if we had a chance? _ ”   
  
Not expecting an answer from her, Zuko turns away, grits his teeth, and forms fists with his hands. He closes his eyes as well, hoping screwing them shut will be enough to keep the tears at bay. He fights his other nervous habits, not wanting to seem like a weak man who’s unable to face her rejection.    
  
When he hears her shuffling beside him, he stiffens up and tells himself to be strong. He’s not going to cry in front of her; that’s something he thinks is under his control anyway. He’s not going to cry. He’s not going to cry. He’s not—   
  
Tears fall as soon as he feels her arms wrapping around his neck. Unable to help himself, one of his hands move to grip her forearm, to hold on tightly to her before he loses her for the last time. In a less-than-graceful manner, she lands on his lap, adjusting herself to a more comfortable position and burying her face in his shoulder. Instinctively, his arms clutch at her hips as though she’s his lifeline, and it isn’t until he opens his eyes and lets the tears freely streak down his face that he realizes Katara’s own muffled sniffling on his shoulder.   
  
She’s crying, too—because of  _ him. _ Agni, he really is a jerk.   
  
Shrugging her face off his shoulder to take a good look at her, his heart just about shatters when he sees clearly the rivers of moon-glistened tears trickling down her cheeks. And immediately, he curses himself and his stupid mouth and his stupid words. Seeing her cry, hearing her whimper, and feeling her shake in emotion so close to him cause tears to slide out of his eyes, this time more in frustration than heartache. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I was just—”   
  
He swears to Agni his heart momentarily forgets how to beat when he sees her lips descending to capture his, effectively cutting off whatever redundant apology he has to say. His eyes widen at first, but he soon gives into the feeling and kisses her back, inclining his head to the side and, for the first time in his life, crashes into Katara in the best way possible.    
  
The kiss is clumsy yet passionate. He tastes some of their mixed tears on her lips, her teeth bruise his lips more than what’s considered to be pleasurable, and he’s sure that the way they hold onto each other would look desperate to others. But, also, kissing her is like a long-anticipated climax to a story. It’s been coming for a long time, and the destination is just as sweet as the painful journey they both went through just to get here, to get lost in each other’s arms like the lovers they almost could’ve been.   
  
When they part for air, Zuko rests his forehead on hers and shuts his eyes as a way to prolong and cherish the moment. He only opens his eyes again when one of Katara’s hands reach up to touch his scar, an action that only she is privy to. Creating a very small distance in between them, he cannot help but lean into her cool touch, her icy palm. He only barely notices that their tears stop flowing some time during their heated kiss, too focused on seeking the truth in the depths of her blue gaze.   
  
“You asked what would happen if we had a chance, right?” she mumbles, her words seemingly flitting about the midnight breeze. Softly, he nods as a response, his heart pulsing in his throat. A soft smile slips into her face as her thumb grazes his nose, the kind of smile that turns his knees weak and crumbly to the touch. “I think… I think we still would’ve ended up here, in this pool, at this very moment. I’ll still be sitting on your lap, itching to make out with you, and you’ll still be here in front of me, your eyes ablaze under the gentle light of the full moon. I guess what I’m trying to say is, the only thing that will be different in that alternate timeline is we’ll both be aware of the love we feel for each other.”   
  
“You love me?” he chokes out, his heart a wild stampede against his chest. He isn’t sure if this is the direction he wants to take with her. While he’ll wholly appreciate her supposed love for him, he doesn’t think he’s quite ready for it yet. He’d rather learn how to love Katara again than force out a relationship based on past emotions and nostalgia. In short, he wants to take his time with her, to court her and make her blush, to take her out to extravagant dates she’ll never think she deserves, and to find out suddenly—perhaps one night in a Fire Nation amusement park where all the colorful lights hit her so perfectly while she licks her dripping ice cream cone, and he merely stares, utterly bewitched, as she turns to him and gives him a smile that outshines even the blazing summer sun—that he is irrevocably in love with her once again.    
  
“I don’t know,” she admits, taking her other hand to get lost in his hair. “But I do feel  _ something  _ for you—to be honest I don’t think that particular feeling ever actually went away even after seven years, so I’d be a liar if I tell you my heart isn’t beating like crazy right now. The truth is, I’m so nervous and kind of scared, but I do want to give us a chance this time.”   
  
A strange combination of relief and delight washes over him the moment the last word left her lips. He wants the same thing she does, and everything feels like it’s finally all coming together.    
  
Not to mention, he’s also looking forward to ‘giving their relationship a chance’. He can’t wait for more sweet moments with her, and he especially can’t wait to fall in love with her again—he is so certain that this will happen because he knows himself, and he knows the lovely girl sitting before him. He knows that falling for Katara is the easiest thing he’s ever done, and it will not take long before he’s once again deep in the pits of his love for her.   
  
And most importantly, how in the world can he refuse her when she looks so resolute and determined and fucking ethereal under the gleaming moon?   
  
With a small smile, he tucks a loose curl behind her ear, hoping she’ll see the minuscule gesture as a sign of his willingness to do all the crazy, romantic stuff with her. “I want a chance with you, too. In fact, will you let me take you out on a proper date sometime?”   
  
“Yes,” she softly says, excitement coiling around her voice. “And you know what? I also want another kiss.”   
  
He smirks, raising one brow in question. “Really?”   
  
She playfully narrows her eyes at him. “Yes, really. More kisses, in fact, a lifetime supply of it.”   
  
“Prove it.”   
  
And so she does, grabbing his face and capturing his mouth with hers again. To Zuko, their second kiss is as explosive as any firecracker. Perhaps it’s the growing heat inside him that makes him feel this way, or the way every touch of hers sends an earth-shattering jolt down his spine, or the fact that her lips moving against him causes actual explosions to appear in his closed eyes—or maybe it’s just the thrill that he only ever feels whenever he’s with her and no one else. Maybe it’s just her.    
  
He nips at her lower lip, and his ears seem to fly away at the sound of her content gasp. Yup, it’s definitely just Katara that’s turning him into this lovesick fool. Funnily enough, he cannot even find it in himself to care about looking like a fool when he’s with her. A fool is what he’s willing to look like and turn into if it makes her happy, and that’s what he wants, after all, to see her positively beaming with unabashed joy.   
  
That’s why, right now, all he cares about is sending her up to the moon, hearing more of her blissful gasps and moans while he does so, using only his lips—and he’s never been known to give up on anything, especially not on something as important as making Katara feel as though she’s floating up in the night skies.   
  
Undoubtedly, Zuko is going to have to endure a long night. What he likes about this particular night is the fact that Katara is going to be just as sleep-deprived as he is in the morning. At least he doesn’t have to lie awake in bed, thinking about his mistakes and mulling over his regrets anymore. After all, Katara’s going to be right beside him from now on—and who is he to deny a pretty girl of her demands for more kisses?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic for this pairing!!! And it's inspired by the Day 1 prompt of Zutara Week 2020, 'Reunion'. Unfortunately, I did not find enough time to write for all the prompts, and I have only finished for the first two! This is like my favorite pairing ever though. I only watched A:TLA during the last few months of 2019, and I'm still hung up on these two. Hope you guys enjoyed this!
> 
> Paalam! ;)


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